


Warning Signs

by maxthebd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mycroft being awesome, Mycroft taking liberties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxthebd/pseuds/maxthebd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mycroft takes liberties with John Watson, of the protective, medically-inclined variety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning Signs

Warning sign number one was a dark 221 B. It could have been as simple as John not being inside, but the ridiculously expensive black sedan further down the street told him otherwise.

The flat's silence was warning sign number two. Gently tucking the common door shut behind him, the consulting detective crept up the stairs, skipping the squeaky tenth tread with caution.

Warning sign number three was faintly lit by the sodium lamps outside. Mycroft Holmes sat in John's chair, angled toward the settee with a full cup of tea next to him. Another cup was on the settee's side table. Sherlock could almost place quid on it being empty.

"Mycroft."

"Brother," the civil servant spoke low, rising to follow his sibling into the kitchen.

Shutting the pocket doors, Sherlock flipped on the light over the stove, which provided just enough light to make him look suitably threatening. "You're here. John's sleeping, and your cup of tea was full, his was not, you drugged him. What happened at the clinic?"

"Dr. Watson had an interesting day."

Sherlock crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter to level a look at his brother.

A manicured hand covered his face before the older Holmes sighed. "An escaped convict found his way into Dr. Sawyer's clinic. When she failed to provide the 'proper' treatment, he assaulted her and found John. When our dear doctor made an attempt to apprehend the man, he received a bullet graze across the chest for his troubles."

"The idiot refused medical treatment and you sedated him yourself." Sherlock shook his head and let it fall back enough to stare at the ceiling. "And the wound was cared for?"

"Personally."

"Ta," the younger Holmes smiled briefly, catching the indignation on Mycroft's face. As if Sherlock dared think that he'd let anyone else touch their John Watson. He shifted off his coat, draping it over a chair before opening the kitchen's doors and making his way to the settee. 

Crouching near John's head, long fingers brushed blond hair away from the doctor's sweat-lined face before sinking underneath his neck to tuck the slumbering man against his shoulder. Satisfied with his hold, Sherlock finished gathering John in his arms, paused for a beat and lifted both of them to standing.

"You will have ten hours before you can continue to drag the good doctor around London." Mycroft said to Sherlock, watching his brother walk to his own bedroom.

"Turn the stove light off," Sherlock tossed over his shoulder, hip-checking the door open and using his foot to close it behind him.

Mycroft waited until the bedroom light flicked on for a few seconds and promptly off, freezing in place when his blazer vibrated with an incoming call. He flipped the stove light off while answering the call. "Be a dear and bring the car around."

He could find his own way out.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know...


End file.
